


Vargtimmen

by Hellionesque



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Everyone is Crying A Lot, F/F, M/M, Nonbinary Character, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Trans Character, Werewolves, possible future smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-26
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-07-18 07:43:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7305757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hellionesque/pseuds/Hellionesque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shinji Ikari is your normal high school teen. Sad. Rebellious. Angry. Wants to run away- not only from his problems, but from his foster home, as well as his life as a whole. So, when he finally acts on the last point, he expects not a single person to care. Little does he know, though, that from this self caused misfortune may come his greatest advocate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Basket Case

**Author's Note:**

> Story title based off of the song 'Vargtimmen' by Hedningarna, which translates to 'Hour of the Wolf' in Swedish.
> 
> \---
> 
> Wellll... This is a thing, now. I'm taking a break from Haunted for a while to work on this work instead, mostly because I still need to sort out the world rules of my other story, and I'm honestly not feeling very motivated to write it, to be honest. I'm literally the laziest writer in the world wow haha
> 
> ANYWAYS though, I'm pretty excited to write this story. Hope you like it!

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. At least, Shinji Ikari doesn’t think so.

 

Of all the lives he had to live, this one had to suck the most. He thinks this, looking at the attic ceiling, the cracking wood starting to bow in. He’d have to tell his foster mother about that. She might not care. _He_ didn’t care, listening to his music blasting through broken earbuds, lying completely prone on his ragged mattress that he hadn’t cared to change the sheets on in what felt like months. He swallows, rubbing the back of his hand over his tear-stained eyes, because boys weren’t supposed to cry, but he did. So what did that make him?

 

A mistake.

 

At least that’s what being left alone at an adoption agency made him feel like, frozen to near death one winter’s morning.

 

And Shinji Ikari isn’t going to lie to himself when he admits that he wishes he had died that night. At least he would have been young and wouldn’t have understood the irony in his death.

 

He rolls onto his side, sitting up with his music still pounding in his ears along with his heartbeat, swallowing the fear that had built up in his throat and that had slipped in between his teeth, making them feel loose and ready to rip out of his jaws. This would be the night, he decides. A night much like the night he was abandoned on. Maybe if Shinji knew that this was going to happen to him as a child, struggling to keep up his grades, pretending like he didn’t care when his schoolmates made fun of him, he would have beared down on every thought in his mind until he just broke, like he was finally breaking now.

 

Shinji stands next to his bed, walking over to his dresser and pulling out his favorite band shirt, as well as a dark coloured jacket. After stripping off his current top, he turns to look at his reflection in the mirror to his left, ignoring the shatter that goes straight down the center, and instead memorising the fearful look in his eyes, the red rawness that surrounds them like targets. He stares himself down until he is just a child, just like he once was, looking within himself to try and find the courage to commit the greatest sin. His reflection stares back, numb to the pain he himself was feeling. Something of a mutual understanding. He gets it.

 

And so it was. He turns and crosses his room, opening the door and traversing the stairs, down to the upstairs bathroom, nausea building, head spinning, as he opens the medicine cabinet and retrieves the things he needs; his foster mother’s pain killers, bottle after bottle of prescriptions, a small package of razor blades just in case the first two didn’t work. He shoves them in his jacket pockets, ignoring the rattling sounds that they made.

 

Everything felt like a blur now. Shinji remembers to turn off the lights behind him, because he didn’t want to be a bother and leave traces of his presence behind. All the lights were off in the house… except one. He stares down the stairs at the kitchen light, which was still turned on, cursing himself for not checking before making all his preparations. He hopes to a God who had abandoned him it wasn’t Misato- the foster mother in question. He slowly creeps down the wooden steps, biting his fear by the legs and peering into the lit kitchen, only to meet-

 

A set of bright blue eyes was focused back on him, framed by orange hair. His foster sister (he uses to term ‘sister’ lightly in this connotation. He never had any sibling-like feelings for the girl) stares right back. “Where are you going?” A voice asks, echoing off the surfaces of the house, and it takes him a second to realize it was _her_ talking and not some last ditch effort of whatever shreds were left of his conscience to stop him.

 

“Out.” Shinji’s ragged voice replies, hollow.

 

The girl sneers back at him, standing up from her seat at the table. “You know Misato told me not to let you out of the damn house, not after _last time_ ,” She enunciates the last bit too much, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Last time. He remembers that this wasn’t his first time trying something like this. He steps back, hands shoved in his pockets. “... And you’ll freeze to death if you just go out in that. Shinji, I already know I’m powerless to stop you, but I’m not stupid.”

 

Shinji’s shoulders relax, though tension was still present in his body. The tears were coming back ( _he’s a mistake, a mistake, an awful mistake_ ). He could barely hear his own heartbeat over the music still throbbing in one ear, trying not to look at the girl now standing less than a foot from him. “I’m sorry. Asuka, I’m-” Is all he can think to say, biting his lower lip.

 

She raises her hand, braced in a fist like she’s about to hit him for thinking he could cross her without asking, shaking with fervor. She had all the right to, in his mind, after when he had put this ‘family’ through. Fear tints her actions like pigments in stained glass, and he sometimes wishes that she could be as see-through as it. Slowly, though, her fist unclenches, and she lets it fall to her side, nail marks visible on her palm.

 

“You’re a fucking basket case, Shinji. Pathetic and selfish and-” Asuka stops herself, inhaling shakily. Shinji has half the mind to look up at this point, still not able to look into her eyes, seeing a single tear track down her face. “-Don’t hurt yourself too much this time. Misato is thinking of putting you in a psych ward. I’d have to eat her cooking every night if you disappeared like that.”

 

Shinji can’t help but let out a weak laugh, still watching that tear drip down her face. He reaches up with a sleeved hand and wipes it away, stopping when her hand reaches up and grabs his wrist. Finally, up into those pained blue eyes, willing himself not to shed another tear when he sees the barely kept rage behind them. He pulls his arm away from hers, walking past her and to the back door, hands pressed to the frosted over glass, gulping audibly in an attempt to force himself to not cry. “I think… I’m going to do it… this time.”

 

Asuka doesn’t respond. He takes it as a silent confirmation. He can tell she’s sick of him and his whining. Instead of bothering her any further, he opens the door, stepping out into the snow and darkness, and shuts it softly behind him.

 

He trudges through the backyard to the treeline not far behind the house, beckoning to him like the hands of dark angels, thin fists reaching up like antennas to heaven. He turns to look back at the house, willing his body not to revulse and go back, instead turning his teary eyes to the stars far above, wordless songs of mindless pain running through his thoughts and baptizing his body in their dull and sticky feeling. And so, he goes.

 

Shinji walks for hours, or at least if feels like it. Thankfully he had put new batteries in his music player; he didn’t want to die feeling alone with only his own weakening heartbeat to push him on. His whole body felt like frozen solid from the inside out, joints creaking with every movement. He had bumped into a couple trees on the way, falling at least twice. His jacket and pants were soaking wet, pain edged down to his bone with it’s intensity, only the darkness edging him on towards his goal.

 

He slumps down next to a tree, mind fogged to hell, barely able to feel his limbs, curling in on himself while shaking violently. He reaches into his pockets, pulling out one of the pill bottles, dropping it into the snow due to how numb his hands are, letting out a sob at how _useless_ he is, even this close to death. Shinji Ikari is terrified. Terrified of _himself_ _(terrified of the mistakes, he’s a mistake, everything about him is a mistake)_ and he feels like hes suffocating on the air around him.

 

He grips around his pocket, feeling the package of razors under his fingertips, tearing the paper box open and letting the blades fall onto the ground around him like silver snowflakes from a faux heaven. Shinji blindly grasps some in his fist, feeling the bite of cold metal into his skin, throat tightening unbearably, pulling down his sleeves and roughly and mashing them into his already bandaged wrists. He bites his lower lip until he feels blood drip down his chin, scraping the razors rabidly until his forearm is simply a red mess. Finally, his body slacks, breath ragged.

 

He falls limply onto one side, blades still gripped in one hand. A scream finally claws forth from his throat, watching his own blood pour into the snow as thick as syrup, turned black by the lack of light. The feeling of dread crawls into him as his heart starts to fail, missing beats every so often. Everything starts to swirl and mix together, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open, so he doesn’t. He lets the vivid sounds of night take him under, muscles slacking and jaw unclenching.

 

Just as he starts to lose consciousness, a gentle touch on his shoulder reminds him he’s still here. He stares forwards, only now realising there was something standing before him on legs as white as the snow below, feet dipped in the cold fluid which was spread across the ground before him- or rather, before _them?_ Shinji can’t bring himself to look up; too tired, too much work.

 

The touch turns into a shake, Shinji’s head being lolled back and forth by its force, and… _would you stop that? I’m trying to die here_ , is the only tangible thought he can thread together. Dark eyes watch as their owner’s marred arm was picked up in fingers just as pale as the legs that still take up most of his vision, tightness surrounding his marred wrist.

 

Shinji can’t move, and whether it's from his weariness or from fear he doesn’t know. His eyes fall shut again, breath coming in weak pants. The subtle touch to his numb skin was still there, touching up from his palm and onto the shredded flesh. He has half the mind to flinch at the contact, fingers retracting into a loose fist. The touch immediately retreats, as if startled by Shinji’s sudden movement, it returning a second later to scoop under his ribcage. Even through the fabric of his jacket, Shinji can feel the strange coolness of the figure’s skin, though it may just be the ambient temperature… he isn’t exactly sure, a second arm going under his legs.

 

Shinji’s mind goes into a fogged rush as he is lifted from the icy earth, rushing and flowing as if it were a watery soup, sloshing around in his skull. Head craning back, neck straining as whatever was carrying him in arms thin as the bones underneath them. It begins to walk, run, sprint, until it’s movements become somehow so much of a blur that Shinji can’t even count the steps per minute- not that he was counting, anyways. Echoes of crunching ice mixed with animal-like pants become the only sounds in his world, the music left somewhere behind...

 

He realizes, then, that this didn’t feel like an end. Maybe a stifled beginning; the inhale before a opera singer launches into the throes of a song, the sound of string players as they warm up before a grand performance, the bark that comes from a wolf’s throat before it lets its voice free in a soul chilling howl that could rend the sky in two if it wished. It made him feel unimportant. What if this wasn’t his story, Shinji wonders… he felt as if he was a speck of dust in a beast’s great eye, blue as the sky and as wide as it, too.

 

Something in the back of his mind tells him this was, in fact, his tale. Shinji Ikari is startled into the darkness.

 

\---

 

Shinji thinks, initially, its the sounds of shuffling movement and that awaken him. He forgot how much it sucked to wake up, and the sharp pain in his head didn’t help… his fingers tighten into aching fists, legs stretching out with a jitter of his hips. The pain only gets worse as he opens his eyes, warm light turned sharp to his throbbing head. His eyes recognize his surroundings immediately as his room, the familiar scent of mothballs and dull air alluding to at least that. A vague shape meanders across his vision, light bending around a dark figure that passes by. Shinji shifts to sit up, but is immediately stopped by a nauseating bout of headrush which forces him to lie back down, a groan coming from his throat.

 

This was a bad idea. He sucks in a harsh breath when the figure suddenly stops, and he can feel judging eyes land on him. A voice suddenly invades his head, tone accusing and nearly cutting in it’s anger.

 

“Do you even know how worried I was when I got home and you weren’t here?! Asuka wouldn’t tell me anything, and-” The sound of his foster mother’s roaring voice causes him to shudder as she peals on and on about how damn _worried_ she was. Misato draws closer, her vague shape taking up nearly his entire vision. She stops after a good minute, her panting breaths being heard above everything else.

 

“... Are… are you done now…” Shinji has half the mind to croak out, voice worn thin with pain. Misato doesn’t respond for a second, but he can feel her gaze drilling into him.

 

“ _No._ Where the Hell did you think you were going? You nearly froze to death out there! Thankfully, I called some people in the community and they found you…,” Misato sneers and crouches down to his eye level, red-brown eyes staring back at him as sharp as tacks. _That was the point,_ he thinks, looking away from her, shutting his eyes to dull the light’s burn, “At least you had half the mind to take blankets with you, thank God for that.”

 

Shinji sits still, eyes still tight, before he fully metabolize what she had said… Blankets? His brows knit as he tries to think back to the previous night, but nothing was coming back to him, memories dulled to a tarred stop. “Y-yeah, I…,” Shinji starts, his eyes still locked closed as he tries to force himself into thinking back, back to…

 

Misato huffs, the sound of her ruffling clothes as she stands reminding him of her presence. “Don’t pull that kind of thing again. It’s stupid to do that, especially this time of year!” She scolds, her glare still locked onto him. He mutely nods, not sure what to say now that his mind was locked onto a completely different topic…

 

After a minute of silence, she finally exits the room, arms crossed over her chest stubbornly. Once he hears the sound of the attic door shutting, Shinji once again tries to sit up, this time with better results. He lets out a long groan, leaning back against the wall next to his bed to keep himself upright. His mind slowly pieces together the implications of last night, thoughts aligning until they finally become clear. He finally opens his eyes, a million different questions clouding his brain, though one stands out from all the rest.

  
_Who saved me?_


	2. Winter's Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah... so, I'm going to Comic-Con this weekend. I'm actually cosplaying as Bucky, so... I'll tell you how that goes. Anyways, I'm happy that this story at least has some traction from what I've seen so far. Other than this story and Haunted, I'm also working on two other more 'risque stories'. I'm awful, I know.
> 
> Otherwise, thank you for your support! Hits, kudos, bookmarks, and comments are always appreciated.

Shinji honestly didn’t know how Misato could mistake the circumstances. He stares at his heavily bandaged left wrist, having divested himself of his jacket, shirt, and binder (he realised he had slept in it about five minutes after sitting up, so, ouch). His eyes trace the heavy cloth that surrounds it like a cast, he gently touching it in an attempt to figure out exactly what it was. It felt like… a very rough sort of linen, yellowed with age, and worn threadbare in some places. It had stayed surprisingly in-tact despite it’s wear and tear, only a few spots of blood coming through the material.

 

He lies back down for a while, still trying to figure out how Misato had mistook his obvious suicide attempt as… running away? He honestly didn’t know what she thought he was doing. She was probably drunk on some level. Stress drinking. Shinji grimaces, instead trying to figure out what to do. If Misato still trusted him not to do anything, he assumes, then… Hell, he could go back out without her caring. After last time, though, she watched him like a hawk for _months._ Shinji thinks back to last night, trying to analyse if he left any traces behind-

 

Uh oh.

 

He pauses mid-thought and sits straight upright, eyes wide. The pills! The damn _pills!_ He curses himself for forgetting them. If Misato saw that they were gone, she’d know exactly what happened, and the exact same thing as last time would happen, or even worse… he shakes his head and sits up, grabbing a towel from his closet to go take a shower while he concocts his plan.

 

After a short, rushed shower, replacing his wrist dressings with new ones, and changing into a new set of clothes, he’s finally come up with a plan. It might be a stupid one, but a plan no less…

 

Shinji stares out his attic window and into the snow-blanketed woods behind the house, pulling on his thick leather boots while trying to remember the way he had taken out into the forest. He had gotten lost out there many times on days he didn’t really want to go to school, wandering around for hours before finally finding a familiar road or building on the edges. As a last thought… he turns around and goes under his bed, retrieving a small utility knife before facing the window again. Just in case whatever ‘saved’ him last night turns out to be less than friendly.

 

Shinji opens the window, careful to not open it too far and slam the other side into the window frame. He climbs out through the screenless window and onto the small ledge outside of it, holding onto the gutter to close it softly behind him before clambering down the ledge. He drops carefully from it, landing deftly in the ankle-deep snow not far below before racing for the treeline, hiding behind one of the thicker trunks to block the view of the house.

 

Good… Okay, step one accomplished. He stares out into the wide expanse of trees as he finally picks a direction to go in. Now, all he had to do is find the bottles and get back in one piece. He had maybe two or so hours before Misato comes back to check on him. Shinji nods to himself, racing off into the snow. It’ll be easy… All he needs to look for is a red patch under a tree, and they’ll be there. Hopefully.

 

\---

 

-Okay. No, it’s… it’s not easy. Shinji leans against another tree, panting. He had spent the first hour simply casting around, and he didn’t find a single thing. Nothing even remotely familiar stuck out to him. That was bad in two respects. First, because he didn’t have a chance of finding the things. Second because- well…

 

He was hopelessly lost himself.

 

Shinji presses his head against the tree trunk, growling at himself before mashing the heels of his palms against his eye sockets. How could he be so stupid? He didn’t even bring a compass or anything. He slumps down against the tree trunk, sitting in the snow while silently thinking- about how absolutely pissed Misato will be, the venomous look he’ll get from Asuka, how it’ll feel to be institutionalized… He rubs his eyes with his wrists, feeling the beginning of tears forming in their corners. Fucking hell- why did he even think he could do something like _this?!_ The dull silence was deafening to him, ears ringing in fear-

 

Shinji jerks back at a sudden noise, breath shaky as he presses himself back. _What… what the hell was that…?_ is all he can think as the sound happens again. It sounds like rustling fabric, a gentle rush of air, the slosh of feet in snow, a hard rattling noise which chills his bones. The sounds of the day were dampened by the snow, but this sound splintered out through the trees. His heart starts to pound as it gets closer, the only action he can think to do is to retrieve his knife from his pocket and flip it open. It… it might only be a deer! Or some other animal… he presses his hands into the cold earth, sliding up along the frozen trunk.

 

The sounds were so close now, and his fear was so thick that he could taste it like hot smoke in a burning forest. The hand gripping the knife clenches to a white-knuckled tightness, his movements rigid as he turns around, only to see…

 

Nothing. The snowy area behind the tree was completely empty, devoid of footprints. Nothing to worry about, nothing to be afraid of, nothing to run away from. He wipes the beading sweat on his forehead away. The sound slowly comes to a stop, though the rustling of fabric was still present. Shinji cautiously steps away from the tree, whipping around occasionally to scan his surroundings. If it was an animal… he could just scare it off, right? He inhales deeply, closing his eyes and steeling himself.

 

“H-... Hello?! Is anyone out th-there…?” Shinji yells, breathing hard. It’s silent for a few moments before the rustling returns, it increasing in volume. Fuck. He whips around just in time to see something dashing past him, his eyes vaguely registering that they’re standing on two legs before it disappears again. He stumbles back, desperately trying to locate the figure- if only he could just-

 

A gentle tap against his back makes him whip around, turning knife-first to swipe at whatever was behind him, but all he catches is air. They jolt back, the first thing Shinji realizing about it being that it _had no face._ He stares back into the gaping eyes of a tarnished deer’s skull, which was held firmly to the head of whatever was now pointing a rough hewed spear back at him. Shinji holds his knife in two hands, pointing it back at the obviously armed figure before him, listening to his own labored breaths mix with the others.

 

Shinji quickly takes in the figure, trying to see if there was anything obviously wrong with them. They stood about a half foot shorter than him, the only bare skin being it’s hands and feet which both possessed overgrown nails, both sets sharp at their tips. Their body was otherwise covered in what looked to be various types of blankets sewn together in the rough shape of a cloak, a hood hiding their head and any sort of way to identify whether this figure was man or beast.

 

Shinji begins to back away, knife still held out defensively. In turn, they begin to walk after him, spear still held in both hands. Yeah… yeah, this was the end, Shinji realizes, backing into a tree with whatever was in front of him steadily coming closer. There was no way he could outrun this thing, and he had no obvious way of defending himself other than his knife, which could easily be knocked from his hands.

 

They slowly come to a stop a good three feet away, breaths still audible behind the terrifying looking object which holds itself to their face. Shinji watches as it slowly lowers the spear, tip digging into the snow as they reach up to free the skull from their hooded head, he bracing for the worst to be behind it. The figure settles it into the snow before finally looking up, the bright eyes from behind wide open sockets turning accusing when they meet Shinji’s grey-browns. Shinji looks their now exposed face, piecing together the features to make one tangible thing. Their face appeared to be slightly thinner than his, eyes wider as if to let the world know of their blazing red colour. A couple strings of fine, grey hair come down nearly over their eyes, blowing softly in the billowing wind.

 

“Who… w-who are you…?” Shinji’s voice comes weak as the figure comes closer, looking half shocked that he had even spoken.

 

The figure mumbles to themself for a second, they taking in Shinji’s obviously scared posture. They slowly put the spear down, putting both hands up as if to show that they were no longer armed, before saying something a little louder, their words coming out garbled and warped.

 

Shinji makes a slightly confused face and leans closer. “U-uh… what?” He tries again, still very wary.

 

“Na… Nagi… sa… Ka… woru… u…” Nagisa Kaworu says again. They speak as if they had never spoken before, correct pronunciation almost completely non-existent.

 

Shinji cautiously lowers the knife in his hands, he still being ready to use it at any time. At least they had some semblance of a name… “M-my name is Ikari Shinji,” He starts, because it would be rude not to introduce himself. Shinji looks at Nagisa Kaworu, still not sure what to make of them. “Um, well… why are you here?”

 

Nagisa Kaworu looks back at him like a deer in the headlights of a speeding eighteen wheeler. Shinji chews on his bottom lip as they stand up straighter, still being shorter than him by a long shot. Taking the initiative, Shinji slowly reaches out his empty hand, palm spread skywards. His mind is screaming from him to pull it back, but he really, really didn’t know what to do at this point, and this was the last thing that he could think to do other than some variation of turning and running away. Nagisa Kaworu looks down at his hand, eyes still wide and alien, taking a small shuffle back in apparent fear.

 

“I-It’s fine, don’t worry-” Shinji feels himself speak before he realizes it, and he meets those terrified, animal-like eyes. They stare back, before cautiously reaching out their own hand to touch his outstretched palm, fingers icy and frail like the frozen branches of a forgotten rose bush, left to die in the outside temperatures. Their fingers tap up from his palm to his thin wrist, the barest graze of grey-white gauze showing under the sleeve of Shinji’s jacket. Their body suddenly seemed to light from within, and the boy pressed back against the tree almost swears he can see the glow flourish under the pallid knuckles brushing over his now exposed arm, his other hand loosening and dropping the still open knife into the snow.

 

Nagisa Kaworu looks up at him with one of the wildest, most horribly beast-toothed grins he swears he’s ever seen, incredibly amazed and yet hopelessly confused. Shinji stares back at them, feeling mostly the latter, though hints of the former are still there.

 

This was… _the_ person? He nearly couldn’t believe it, but in a second he is swept up in a rib-cracking hug, his own arms held out to the sides as he is swung around and around. “W-wait-!” Shinji manages to stutter, while the other lets out a terrible, ridiculous, soul-stabbingly _beautiful_ yet still broken laugh as Shinji’s feet desperately try to re-reach the ground, teetering aimlessly through the snow until, finally, Nagisa Kaworu gives up and instead flops them both into a thick drift of it, making a resounding ‘pluf’ that sends a cloud of little flakes fluttering above both of their now entangled bodies.

 

Now, he can’t be entirely sure, but Shinji thinks that getting completely lost, somehow finding the person who saved him last night, and then proceeding to bear hug the person into oblivion wasn’t part of the plan, but once again, he can’t be really sure. At least he managed to land on top, the other crushed beneath him.

 

As he sits back up, he realizes that their hood had come off while dramatically sweeping the both of them around, messy grey hair spread out like a wild mop behind their head, matching the craziness of their fanged grin. Shinji catches his breath as they sit up under him, sliding their legs out from under his hips and sitting on their knees with a posture similar to a very overstimulated puppy.

 

Shinji, meanwhile, is lost for words, his brain not even formulating sentences at that point. He clears his throat, trying to figure out something to say, but is interrupted when they suddenly pull a red-brown leather satchel from their back, it apparently being the source of the rattling sound he heard earlier. From it, they pull forth a collection of plastic bottles, which they offer to him. Shinji stares dumbly at them for a few seconds before snapping to a realization that, _hey, you were looking for something,_ _right?_ Shinji reaches out slowly and takes them from their hands, inspecting them carefully before stumbling up, remembering with a start exactly why he was looking for them, and once again, _hey! You need to get home!_

 

Shinji clears his throat, looking down at the figure kneeling in the snow. “H-hey, I know we just met and that you, uh, saved my life and stuff, a-and we, uh… what I’m trying to say is, you seem cool, but I have to go,” Shinji stutters once he’d put the bottles in the pocket of his hoodie. “And I… I’m kind of lost. So if you could- erm… help me?”

 

Nagisa Kaworu stands up in front of him, brushing the ice from his cloak and hair while directing a vaguely concerned look at him, before snapping back to his apparently usual smile and offering him a clawed hand, it's calloused palm being rough and slightly dirty. “… H-…ome…?” They manage in a gentle and almost feathery voice, as if they were afraid that if they raised their voice above a whisper that some wayward beast may come down and snatch them up. Two lock eyes for a mere moment before Shinji steadies himself and nods, cautiously placing his palm within the other’s. They tilt their head and smile before turning and leading him through the trees.

 

After an (embarrassingly short) walk, they finally approach a familiar treeline where Shinji can see the house not far ahead. Nagisa Kaworu stops and turns back, nodding slowly.

 

“I-... I still can’t thank you enough,” Shinji tries not to look into his eyes and instead down into the snow, shuffling his feet in an anxious manner. He lets out a puff of warm air when he looks up to their joined hands, still surprised at even himself for not rejecting the other’s touch entirely. And, not that he had a problem with that… he loosens his hand and lets it go back into his hoodie pocket, thumbing the edge of a medicine bottle, “I’ll be back soon, though.” Shinji murmurs, before walking quickly past them and to the back of the house, where he somehow manages to scale the gutter and not break his neck, opening his window and climbing inside.

 

He turns back and looks out to give a final wave to them, though… his eyes don’t deceive him when they meet only the alabaster white of the snow and the stoic darkness of the treeline. Nagisa Kaworu is gone, lost like faintly glowing ashes on the wind.


	3. Assuming Things and Getting Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while?

It had all gone to plan.  _ Thank god for that.  _ Shinji sighs, both in relief and at himself, eyes closed as he reclines back on the wall behind his bed, fingers tapping on his bared stomach to some sort of invisible beat. He knew full well that what he had done was risky in the  _ least _ .

 

He goes wordlessly over the events of the day, letting the lamplight sink into him, trying to calm himself down. After having re-entered the house, he quickly made his way to the upstairs bathroom and deposited the medication back into it’s place. And not a moment too soon as well, since Misato came home less than ten minutes later. By that time Shinji had already hid himself back in his room, nestling back into the gray shadows where he still sat.

 

It all felt so strange. The way his life had suddenly picked up. Shinji reasons with himself that maybe it’s the calm before the storm… or rather vice versa. He pushes himself up and goes to his dresser, pulling on a large black shirt and dropping his dirty pants and socks to the floor, kicking them into a corner of the room. The light flicks off behind him as he flops stomach-first onto the mattress, face smushed haphazardly into his pillow without even a semblance of comfort.

 

Thoughts flit across his mind now and then, colours blending and morphing together to become one with the overly imposing dark. The storm before the calm. He could almost laugh at himself for thinking something so absurd, though he was too exhausted. This was just another minimal bump in a road as flat as a placid sea. Eventually things would fall back in place, monotone thoughts matching a monotone world. 

 

_ Though there are things I have done, things I’ve said… people I’ve met that I never want to go away,  _ a voice deep within the recesses of his mind says, bringing forth images of a face he can’t quite remember, too blurred around the edges, as well as a name. Nagisa Kaworu. Who are they? Or, rather… who  _ were  _ they? Shinji manages to conjure forth the energy to make a single conscious thought before falling into a soundless sleep.

 

_ I want to meet them again. _

 

\---

 

Shinji might be going out on a limb when making assumptions about Nagisa Kaworu; or, he thinks he is. The pierced look on his face says as much, gazing out the sliding back door at the Sun as it rises above the horizon, the shadows of the trees lining the pure snow of the backyard in perfect stripes. He leans against the table behind him, tilting his head back and swallowing as his left hand presses on top of the thick stack of blankets at his side.

 

He turns to look at them, kneading his knuckles into the thick woven fabric, feeling the ancient sort of texture to it in a fond sort of way. It was remarkable that a woven sort of afghan like that could withstand constant use for… hell, he didn’t  _ know  _ how long _.  _ Shinji was no expert in this sort of thing, but he was at least inquisitive. All he knew was that it was what he was wrapped in the night before last, and what probably saved him from dying from frostbite. Assuming that these specific blankets did in fact belong to a certain person whom he truly shouldn’t be making assumptions about, he at least guesses he should return them.

 

“You’re up early,” a voice starts behind him, he being thoroughly startled out of the dreamy early morning feeling that he wasn’t used to anyways, “and, from what I can smell,  _ someone  _ didn’t have their breakfast.”

 

Shinji clears his throat, glancing back just to make sure of the identity of his assailant. “Good morning to you too, Asuka. I went to sleep at eight last night, if you need a reason why I’m up,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes before continuing with a sigh, “-also, I put a kettle on to boil.”

 

“Ah.” Asuka replies, padding into the kitchen just as a whistle pierces the air. Shinji hears her shuffling through the cupboards and pouring water, she coming back only a minute later with a cup in each hand, which she offers to him. He takes it, setting it down on the tabletop to cool. They stew in an odd sort of silence for a while, the coolness of the house acting as a catalyst to make the silence all the more deafening.

 

“I invited Mari over today.” Asuka mumbles into the thick air of the house. Shinji doesn’t turn to look at her, instead looking down at the steaming surface of the cup in his hand.

 

From what Shinji knew, Mari was weird. Especially when in contact with Asuka.  _ They should have warning labels on them, _ he thinks, looking at her with a slightly soured look on his face. “I thought you two broke up.” That look still sticks to his face, even when Asuka returns the look, pinching her eyebrows together. 

 

“We did. You can still be friends with someone if you break up with them, idiot.” She says, effectively shutting him up, before sliding off the table with her mug in hand and a smirk on her face.

 

Finally left on his own, Shinji lets out a pained sigh and crosses his legs. 

 

Time for another bad idea.

 

\---

 

It must have been at least an hour of plowing through the snow before Shinji finally found them, his teeth chattering together despite the thicker jacket he was wearing, the harsh cold piercing through it as well as the boots he was wearing. He ducks quickly behind a tree when his eyes catch the flash of Nagisa’s coloured cloak not far ahead, a strong wind flashing by causing it’s worn ends to flutter in the wind.

 

Though he could’ve just approached them outright, Shinji sticks back behind cover and simply watches them, their form crouched atop a frost-covered boulder next to a rushing brook. Their eyes pry at the roiling surface of the frigid water, as if hoping for something to arise from the depths, an occasional movement attracting their attention. 

 

At this distance, Shinji finally got a chance to look at Nagisa better, noting features he had either not noticed before or had just accepted as normal when they truly  _ weren't.  _ The way their hair grew all the way down their neck below their cloak could be attributed to simply not cutting it, despite even coming down their jawbone in long ragged patches that looked scruffy and not completely matted despite the apparent dark stains in them. However, the sharp and slightly ripped tips of their ears as well as their inch-long overgrown finger and toe nails seemed more fitting for a monster than a human… 

 

Shinji realised with a start that it wasn’t just his imagination that they had moved, he quickly looking up and meeting the sharp red of their eyes. Out of reflex he quickly whips back around behind the tree, putting one hand over his mouth as if to still his cloudy breaths. How long had Nagisa been looking at him? Would they think he was a creep for looking at them without showing himself?? His mind starts to race as he slowly looks back around the tree to try and explain himself, trying to keep some semblance of courage-

 

Nagisa looks up at him, quirking one of their eyebrows when Shinji jolts back due to the sudden closeness of the two. As if to hide his shock, the taller clears his throat and straightens himself before them, quickly offering the objects in his hands. “U-uh, Nagisa, I- well, I uh- I wanted to g-give these back, since, you know, you were k-kind enough to let me borrow them and- uh… here.” Shinji manages despite the feeling of his throat starting to close up in anxiety.

 

Nagisa looks up blankly at him before breaking into a wide grin, taking them in their clawed hands and throwing one of them over their shoulders. Shinji lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping down, before a new weight was added to them. He looks down, confused, before realising that Nagisa had tossed the other one over his shoulders, carefully wrapping it around his neck in a fashion similar to a cape. He takes the contact as a chance to finish what he was going to say, still carefully watching them affixing it around him.

 

“U-uh, I… I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to my house. Since… well, you looked cold out here. And… I was wondering if you needed a place to stay?” Shinji swallows thickly once Nagisa looks back up at him, eyes searching his face as if they were trying to pull some sort of meaning from what he said.

 

Nagisa inhales deeply and quickly looks away, clutching the blanket over their own shoulders. Their typical expression was dropped, replaced with one that looked lost and nearly afraid. Shinji physically jitters once Nagisa brings up their shoulders and shakes their head, furry brow pulled low and eyes dulling.

 

“… Nagisa?” Shinji starts, concerned at the sudden shift in the other’s physique. He gulps, his own shoulders tensing when he takes a step forwards, only for them to skitter back, looking up at him as their breathing quickens.

 

“C-an’t-t… c-ca-n’t… t-trust…” They murmur, loose hair billowing over their face as a harsh wind flashes past them. Their cloak flutters to show one of their hands clenched tightly at their side, stance defensive though they looked as if they were prepared to attack at any moment if Shinji gave him a reason to.

 

Shinji steps back, trying to asses the situation as best as he can for the possibility of the other striking out violently. “N-Nagisa… It’s-... You’re okay. I-I won’t hurt you,” He takes another step back, both fearing and fearing for the other. They growl warily at him, taking another step back. They actually  _ growl _ . Shinji swears he sees the hair on his head and jaw actually raise, their shoulders locking back as they bare their grey-yellow teeth and flare deadly sharp nails.

 

Suddenly, it seemed less like he was trying to console a friend and more like trying to calm a wild animal. A quick bolt of fear shoots through him, just like the day before when he swore that he was going to be the next meal of the creature that was pointing a spear directly at him. It was an understandable fear, but in no way did it feel right.

 

Shinji swallows as cold sweat drips down his back, the fear eating away at him until he was only an empty shell. He needed to run, but he didn’t  _ want _ to. It’s as if Nagisa can feel his terror when they pull back, their resolve weakening as they sink down into the snow, knees first before their forehead follows. Their arms wrap around their body, soft whimpers overtaking them as if they were trying to fold in on themselves.

 

At that moment, Shinji truly feels for them, the slighter beast lying in the snow. He can’t stop himself when he walks forwards to kneel in front of Nagisa, setting a gloved hand against the softness of his hair. They flinch,  _ of course, _ when he sets his palm there, adrenaline still rushing through their veins and heart stuttering.

 

Nagisa slowly raises themself back up to look at the boy before them. Shinji looks back at them, gulping to keep himself steady. “Nagisa, I… I promise I won’t hurt you. I would never think of it, and… I want you to try and trust me,” He trails off, looking down and to the side, “I… trust you. You saved my life, and that’s the most anyone had ever done for me.”

  
They gaze back at him, chewing the inside of their cheek before slowly nodding, rubbing one of their eyes with the back of their hands. Shinji feels his heart clench a bit. He nods back before turning and tracing his steps back out of the woods, Nagisa tagging along close behind him, one hand gripping the blanket around his neck as if they were afraid if they let him go that he might never return.

**Author's Note:**

> shit I dont know how to make it so that it doesn't say that the story is finished (like, how it says 1/1 under the Chapters section??) instead of saying it isn't (aka 1/?) how?? do I do that?? shoot
> 
> EDIT: fixed. Hell Yeah


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